


The Tunnel

by alleyoops, jennandanica



Series: What Remains [3]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, British Actor RPF, The Walking Dead (TV), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M, Walking Dead AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:00:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alleyoops/pseuds/alleyoops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: After the zombie apocalypse, survivors roam the UK, trying to find their families, other survivors they can trust and somewhere safe where they can actually allow hope for a future to flourish. In this chapter, the two groups team up to make it through the tunnel.The dingy concrete walls are splotched with dirt and grease, as would be expected in such a high-traffic area. But there are also ominous dark stains blooming here and there, black in the artificial light of their headlamps. Blood. So much of it in some spots that Ryan doesn't need to hear the mindless moans to confirm there's trouble waiting, immediately ahead.





	The Tunnel

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone familiar with the [RPG Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read), this is NOT backstory for any of our pups in the game. Also, we apologize in advance for any discrepancies regarding weapons and UK geography and slang/terminology. We did our best but I'm sure we've mucked up something.

It's Sam who wakes them although Luke suspects Antony was first up. He can't imagine that guy ever really sleeping. The warehouse is still dark, their only light a couple of candles, the headlamps saved for the tunnel. Breakfast is a rushed and solemn affair consisting of protein bars and juice boxes and then, with the first light of day fast approaching, it's all hands on deck, bags shrugged on and weapons at the ready. 

Stopping just inside the door, Antony turns to them. "We don't leave anyone behind," he says, his voice low but firm. "Your first priority is your buddy, your second everyone else, but we don't leave anyone behind. Stay close, stay smart and when we're on the other side, we'll regroup in the first available shelter."

Ryan stares, his brow furrowed. He hates to ask, and he for sure won't ask Antony. But he does lean in close to Sam and murmur, for his ears only, "Does he mean that physically? Or spiritually?" He and Alex have lost people in fights before. They've had to cope with the vicious moral dilemma of whether to mercifully end the suffering of a comrade who's been irretrievably bitten, but still human. They've never tried to carry one of those corpses to safety, though.

Sam grins. "He's just taking it for granted we'll make it through," he murmurs back. "He's surprisingly optimistic that way." And right so far. Which could work in their favour _or_ mean their luck's about to run out. 

And that sounds great, although it doesn't really answer Ryan's question... He shrugs it off, because there's no way he'll let himself jinx the mission any more than he might have already done. 

They slip silently out into the city, with Antony and Keira leading, Alex and Luke a couple meters back, and Sam and Ryan covering their six. Alex feels his senses slip into hyper-alert mode, his gaze darting around. He recognizes last night for what it was: an unexpected blessing, a blissful combination of rest and comfort and love - yeah, he'll think it, love. This morning, though, he's back in the real world. But he's determined to keep his lover safe at his side.

Just like the day before, everything's quiet until they get within hearing distance of the tunnel and then it's those ghastly moans, the crowd of walkers pressed up tight against the cars grown even larger.

"Fuck me," Luke murmurs beneath his breath, casting a glance at Alex. And sure enough, there's about twice the number there now. "Is our plan still the same?" he asks Antony as they take cover for a moment behind the building.

Antony nods, readying the firethrower. "This'll slow them down, put some of them on the ground, the others, close contact, knives, no guns, line up and take 'em out like a production line. Don't let them get too close to you until they're starting to go out."

Ryan nods, and checks one last time that his headlamp is securely in place. He keeps it off, though - they're all doing so, as planned. No lights until they're inside the tunnel, and it looks like that might be a while yet. Silently he slips his KA-bar out of its sheath, and grips his dagger with his other hand. Drifting up to Luke, he whispers, "Just keep him moving," his eyes pleading. He knows all too well that Alex would rather deal with a dozen walkers out in the open instead of a handful inside that godforsaken tunnel.

Luke gives Ryan a quick, almost imperceptible nod. There's no way Alex isn't making it through that tunnel. Whatever it takes. 

"Problem?" Sam asks when Ryan falls back.

"Nah." Ryan works to keep his gaze from darting to his mates. But, no, it probably wouldn't do to conceal this information, not right now. Leaning in close to Sam, he whispers, "Alex is really claustrophobic. It's... it's a Thing." He meets Sam's eyes, wanting to reassure him. "But Luke knows. We'll get him there."

Sam stares at Ryan for a long time. Reading him. Finally he nods, satisfied with what he sees. "And you're good?"

"With tunnels?" Ryan checks, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah, not a problem for me," he says with a soft chuckle. And he shoots Sam a wink.

Sam's trying to figure out whether he's reading something into that wink when Antony asks if they're ready and he resolves to get back to that thought. _After_ they're on the other side, safe and sound.

And sure enough, the moment Antony takes a few steps out from the building, the first walker spots him and starts moaning louder, turning to head toward them.

Alex keeps pace, maintaining dispersion from Antony and Keira. The first wall of flame goes up and he drops, smacked back by the intense heat. But he struggles back to his feet in the next second. Machete in hand, and his focus absolute.

For a minute, a minute which seems even longer, it seems like maybe the fire will do the job, a good number of the walkers simply collapsing, barely more than skin and bone at this point. But then - like something out of the fucking Terminator - a few come stumbling through, the flames barely slowing them down and Luke's heart drops into his stomach. Christ. But he steps in, quickly and efficiently dispatching one after another. Trying not to think of how many more might be behind them.

This is where it gets ugly. Ugly and real. Alex twists and sidesteps around a walker who lurches towards him, the scraps of greasy fabric on his frame blazing with fire so that it seems like his hands reach out from the very pit of hell. A dry clinical part of Alex's brain methodically runs a tally as he works - _three... four..._ He moves to keep Luke in his peripheral vision every moment that he can. _Six..._

The flames draw attention from more of the dead, and they begin to shamble down from upslope to mix into the throng. Ryan glances aside and is reassured to see that, yeah, Sam is well aware of the new threat. And Ryan doesn't even notice the flush of certainty he feels when he turns his back on the man, trusting Sam more in this moment than he has yet. He attacks and defends in a numb sort of haze, his blade moving like an extension of his arm. Picking off the newcomers and protecting Luke's six, then whirling to cover his own.

Keira's counting too but hers is a total she's been keeping since day one. _Forty-two, forty-three, forty-four..._ She doesn't even look for Antony. Just trusts that he'll have her back, like always. 

Sam takes out three in a row, the walkers from the downslope, not hampered by flame, coming faster than the burning ones. He steps forward, meeting them, checking every other second on Ryan, making sure the other man's safe, aware, and nothing's sneaking up on them.

Once, Ryan looks up to see what's still coming at them from the mouth of the tunnel. But only once. Then he leaves the burning dead to Alex and Luke, and turns to give his full attention to the walkers closing in on them from outside. He tracks Sam without any conscious effort, and they fall into a rhythm like a true team - partners who know each other's signals and habits, as opposed to the untried strangers they really are. 

Finally, the herd starts to thin, the bodies piling up like macabre landmarks.

The other five are handling the fiery walkers and newcomers no problem so Antony moves forward, quickly dispatching the walkers on the ground. Just because they're down doesn't make them any less dangerous and the last thing they need is to lose someone just when they think they're good. That done, he helps Keira out with her last couple of newcomers and watches Alex and Luke take care of theirs, stepping in to take care of one that sneaks up on them. But finally, fuck - he glances at his watch. A good fucking hour and they're done. He can see more walkers in the distance but they're not a threat and the mouth of the tunnel is clear. "Take five and drink up," he orders. He'd like to give them more but he can't.

"Sweet fuckin' Christ," Alex mumbles, bracing his hands on his knees. He's sweaty and bloody and filthy already, but he knows the worst is still to come. _Not now. Not now. Not now._ Straightening up again, he looks over at Luke. "You okay?"

Luke nods, still panting heavily. "Fuck." He shakes his head, not even sure what he wants to say, but maybe that's it. Just fuck. What the hell? How did the world end up like this? How did this get to be their lives? "You?" He pulls his water bottle from his pack and takes a long drink.

"Yeah." Alex's return nod likely looks just as flimsy. He reaches out and touches his lover's arm, reassuring himself of his solidity. Their continued existence.

Ryan swipes the back of his hand across his eyes, then takes another pull off his water bottle before slipping into his pack once more. Checking in, he scans the group, his gaze lingering on Sam. "First hurdle. Over."

"Thank god," Sam nods, giving Ryan a quick smile before he checks in with Keira and Antony. "You sure he'll be good?" he asks Ryan, nodding at Alex. "Luke can handle him?"

"Yeah... Yeah," Ryan decides, covertly watching Alex. They met Luke all of a few days ago, but to him the change in Alex's overall energy is unmistakable. Less sardonic and resigned, more cautiously hopeful... Ryan just hopes it won't be a whole other kind of devastation.

"Okay. Good." Sam nods again, satisfied. He cracks his neck a couple of times, wipes his blade on a nearby corpse and signals to Antony. "Everyone ready? Headlamps on," he says. "Keep them on red."

Snapping his light on, Alex makes a quick visual confirmation that everyone's headlamps are functioning as planned. He wipes his hand on his jeans before taking a firmer grip on his machete. Goddamn, they're not even inside and already he can feel the darkness beginning to suffocate him. He swallows hard and follows Antony's lead into the tunnel.

Luke stays right behind Alex, his knife at the ready, Sam and Ryan bringing up the rear. Inside, the tunnel is packed with cars, bumper to bumper, some door to door. They'd tried to turn around, move, nudge other cars out of the way when it became obvious they were stuck, but to no avail. Those closest to the mouth are empty, their drivers able to get out and escape the tunnel on foot, but the further in they get the more bodies - both dead and still alive - they start to encounter, a hand reaching from an open window to grab Luke by the arm. He curses and whirls, knife raised, his breathing steadying as he realizes the walker's belted in, their jaws clamping futilely, forever hungry. "Jesus Christ," he whispers. He looks to the others. "Do we leave them like this?" 

It's agonizing to think of, but Ryan nods. "Time," he says quietly, mentally estimating how many more such they should expect before they see daylight again. "Time, time, time. Maybe we could try and fire the whole tunnel once we're out? I mean, that'd be-" _something_ , he thinks, but in truth it really wouldn't mean much. "Well, it wouldn't be nothing." He looks to Antony, ready to go with whatever the man says. And it's moments like this one when he's so damn grateful that he himself isn't in command.

Alex shakes his head. But then, he's pretty close to just shaking in general, nervy and unwilling to spend one more second in this godforsaken pit than is truly necessary.

"We leave them here," Antony says, taking a few steps back. "Our goal is to get to the other side, as fast as we can, without making any stupid mistakes. We don't have time to put them out of their..." _Fuck._ "They're not actually in any misery to put them out of. Keep moving."

 _Not actually in any misery_. Ryan isn't so sure of that. It's an existential riddle he's been puzzling over since the beginning, although he's still gotten no closer to an answer. He gives Sam a nod and picks his way carefully through the minefield, easing away from open car windows whenever he can manage it.

It's the most gruesome obstacle course Alex could imagine. Slowly he works his way further, struggling not to touch the cars or the walls. It's a futile struggle, he knows, but _fuck!_ A broken groan yanks his ear and he spins around just in time to find a figure rising from the flatbed of a truck, its eyes flashing in the red of his headlamp. He slashes out, teeth gritted. When he's done he actually has to take a second and swallow back bile.

"Hey." Luke reaches out and takes Alex's hand. Gives it a squeeze. He doesn't care who's watching. "We have to be at least half way. Just hang on." 

Alex's grip is much less squeezing and much more clinging for life. But the stolen instant is only that -- with his next breath Alex lets go and crouches to peek around a van. Then he signals Luke and holds up four fingers. And points just past the van, in his line of sight. Cautiously - as silently as he can manage - he creeps along the wall, coming up behind the four shambling moaning biters he alerted his buddy to.

The walkers never even know what hit them. Luke dispatches the two closest to him and by the time he's done that, Alex has taken care of the others and they're moving on, the sound of Antony and Keira and Sam and Ryan doing the same in front and behind them. 

Antony takes a quick survey of every car they pass, checking the glove boxes of those that are empty and adding several bottle of pills to their bounty. A first aid kit gets shoved in his bag as well as - a surprise, for England - another handgun. It's only as he's reaching into a seemingly empty minivan that he realizes he's gotten sloppy, little whimpers and cries from the backseat drawing his attention. Fuck. It's a baby. Still in its car seat. Turned a long time ago. He slams the door closed without checking further, his stomach roiling.

"What?" Keira whispers.

"Nothing," Antony shakes his head, motioning them forward.

The dingy concrete walls are splotched with dirt and grease, as would be expected in such a high-traffic area. But there are also ominous dark stains blooming here and there, black in the artificial light of their headlamps. Blood. So much of it in some spots that Ryan doesn't need to hear the mindless moans to confirm there's trouble waiting, immediately ahead. Luckily so, as he's nearly prepared for it when an arm streaks out from beneath a lorry. A mottled hand grasps his ankle and yanks him off balance. He hits the ground, the impact jarring up through his spine and stealing his breath. Striking out with his KA-bar, he hacks at the walker's arm, then slashes at its face when it begins to drag itself into the open. Quiet though he is, the commotion draws two more of them. His swings take on a wilder edge. He tries to scramble to his feet from his vulnerable position

Fuck. Seeing Ryan drop to the floor, Sam's breath catches, heart rate ratcheting. He doesn't even think twice, just steps in between Ryan and the walker on the ground, bringing one heavy steel boot down on the creature's head before whirling to slice through the neck of the one behind him. "Get up," he growls at Ryan, not meaning it, fear making it seem like anger even as he's offering his hand. 

Ryan grabs hold and hauls himself up with his free hand, just in time to meet the next attack with his blade. The walker goes down and he stabs through a bloodshot eyeball, spearing into the creature's brain. "Shit," he whispers, his gaze frantically whipping around. He still doesn't quite have his breath back. "Thanks," he tells Sam, once it seems they're momentarily safe. "Those guys looked pretty fresh. Think they were part of the group you saw the other day?" The ones which Sam had described as entering the tunnel, but never reappearing at the other end.

Sam nods. "That was four of them," he says, readjusting his head lamp and taking a drink of water, blood dripping from the knife still in his hand.

"I think we took out another four," Luke says, dropping back, but keeping Alex in sight. "Which makes eight. You said a dozen?" 

"Or so," Sam shrugs. "They were struggling before they even got in here."

In the scarlet glare of the lamps, Alex sees Ryan give a nod at Sam's answer. He doesn't respond, though, too busy scanning the tunnel for more dangers, ahead and behind. Busy with that, and with working to keep his shit together. He catches Luke's eye, making sure his partner sees him as he begins to once more thread his way through the treacherous space. Stacked like firewood by a car are two bodies covered in blood. Double suicide, Alex guesses, taking in the details. Or perhaps suicide plus a mercy killing? It's all semantics now, anyway. He leans down to snatch a pistol from where it lies next to a cold shriveling hand. Movement flickers at the corner of his eye and he lurches back, swinging his machete and finishing off the walker in one smooth motion. Slowly Alex pushes back up to his feet. The sudden pain doesn't even register, at first. Just a vague warmth, and a small twinge of complaint when he takes a step. He looks down in surprise at the gash on his thigh, blood spilling out to soak his shin. He fingers the rent denim at its ragged edge, and only then does the shock of his wound slam into his consciousness.

It all happens too fast for Luke to react. But he quickly closes the short distance between them. "Are you okay?" Eyes wide at the sight of blood on Alex's fingers. "What happened?" 

Antony drops back, motioning Keira to drop with him. "You didn't get bit, did you?" 

"No." Alex is surprised by the question. He looks back, and points at the car he fell against during the walker attack. It's busted up, clearly from a collision with the sedan which is still jammed next to it. Shards of steel jut from the wreckage. He points. "That."

Ryan spits out an oath, already on his knees and digging through his pack. He rifles through it, searching mainly by feel. And pulls out a long folded length of clean cotton from his stash of makeshift bandages. "You feel okay?" he asks Alex, winding the strip of fabric around his thigh to slow the bleeding. "Numb? Tingling?" he adds, getting to his feet again. "We've got to move. Can you walk?"

"I'm fine," Alex snaps, cold sweat on his skin. He is not going to die in this fucking pit, he is _not_. He gestures at Luke. "Go, go!" 

Luke glances at both Ryan and Sam but he does what Alex asks and keeps going, moving forward, getting them closer and closer to being out of this hell hole, his mind rioting. That was a lot of blood and he doubts very much that tourniquet is going to stop the bleeding for any length of time.

Antony just shakes his head. Fuck. "You guys, keep to your knives," he orders, pulling out his gun. He attaches the suppressor he picked up back at the army base and takes out the next six walkers just like that, the sound muffled but still loud in the confined space. He's not worried about more fucking walkers coming though and the sound's quiet enough not to carry outside. 

His injury is starting to really hurt, but Alex makes himself keep going, even when he can't move without limping. He'd rather die than slow down his mates at a time like this. 

Ryan is distracted for a second by the muzzle flashes up ahead, but Antony seems like he's got it under control so he switches his focus back to Alex. He stays in the game, blades at the ready and tracking Sam as they move, but his mind is already leaping ahead to the end of the tunnel. Mentally inventorying their few medical supplies, his minimal first aid kit, what kind of basic protection and shelter they'll need to find, immediately.

Antony reloads twice, giving up on checking the cars as they go. All that matters now is getting to the other side and getting Alex taken care of. And finally he can see a bit of light at the other end of the tunnel. But in between that and them is a fucking bus, Christ, not just a bus, a school bus. "Stay back," he orders the others, motioning for Keira to check the other side while he does this one. 

Keira nods and does a quick perimeter check, her heart in her throat. She's about to tell Antony's all fine when a hand slaps against the window of the bus and an awful chorus of moaning starts up. She knows better than to look but she can't help herself. Kids. A whole busload of kids. And just like that she feels everything they ate this morning come rising up. Luckily she pukes to the side, quickly wiping her mouth and drawing back in beside Antony.

"You okay?" he asks. 

She nods. "The bus is secure," she says, her stomach still churning, determined not to show how much it's affected her. 

Antony motions everyone forward again, taking out the last of the walkers - or what looks to be the last of them inside the tunnel. On the other side is a different story though. Much as expected, there's a whole swell pressed up tight against the cars stuck in the tunnel. Lucky for them, there's a 4x4 by the mouth with a cab he can use to set up. "How's he doing?" he asks Luke and Ryan, not trusting Alex to answer truthfully. 

"He needs to get off that leg," Ryan murmurs over his shoulder, putting his back to Antony so he can see if anything is creeping up on them. "I can't tell in here how bad it is."

"When we get outside, we'll go for the first intact house we see," Antony says. He hands Ryan the gun with the suppressor and a spare clip. "Use this on anything coming up behind us." He pulls his backpack off and dumps it in the bed of the truck, climbing in after it. Keira goes with him while Sam sets up beside Ryan and Luke stays with Alex. "Hey, doc," Antony says, crouching beside his pack and rifling through the pills he took from the cars. "Can we give him something?" he asks, offering up a couple of bottles before turning to set up his rifle and scope. 

That casual address shakes Ryan, and his sharp gaze snaps to Antony before he realizes the bloke didn't mean anything by it. Couldn't have meant anything by it. "Once we stop," he replies, and glances back to check that Alex is still on his feet. 

And he is... but he's starting to feel a little woozy. Alex sternly informs himself that this is not the fucking time to become the group's weakest link - although there's never a good time for that. He leans back against the 4x4 and struggles to stay alert, scanning the ground they've covered.

"If you need to, lean against me," Luke tells him, concerned. Wondering if there's anything in here they can make a stretcher out of it if they need to. He offers Alex his water bottle. "Drink something."

"I'm okay," Alex insists, but he nonetheless drinks up as ordered. He looks at Luke with a hint of hope still shining in his eyes. "We almost made it."

"Yeah, and we're going to make it," Luke says, leaning in and nudging their shoulders together. "Antony's going to take out the walkers and we're going to find a house to hole up in for the night and fix your leg."

Sam watches them for a minute then turns back to watch the tunnel behind them with Ryan. "We're going to need more than a night for that to get better," he murmurs, his words for Ryan alone.

Ryan's lips tighten in a frown. After a moment, though, he reluctantly nods agreement. Every shot Antony takes seems to reverberate back to them, the quarters just too close for it to be otherwise, and he steels himself with a reminder that each shock means one fewer threat for all of them. He doesn't confide his biggest fear to Sam: that if they don't get Alex's bleeding stopped soon, their best efforts won't help the man.

"We're good," Antony finally says, breaking down the rifle. He's taken everything out within a hundred metres and that should buy them enough time to get out and find shelter.

Thank fuck. "Let's go," Ryan tells Alex, getting an arm around him. "You still okay to walk?"

"Told you I'm fucking fine," Alex mumbles, but his uncharacteristic hesitation is signally unreassuring. Together, they limp out through the mouth of the tunnel, wincing and squinting against the light of the overcast sky.

Luke picks up both their bags, staying close, Sam now flanking his other side. They can see a few walkers in the distance but they're too far away to notice them or present any threat.

"How about that one?" Antony says, nodding towards the first house they see that's not on a direct path to the tunnel. The front looks undisturbed and he does a quick check, waving everyone through the gate in the high fence bordering the back yard. "You two stay here with him. We'll clear the inside," he says, Keira already using her set of lock picks to open the back door.

"You got a Powerbar or anything?" Ryan asks Luke, once they've got their charge leaning most of his weight against a thick tree trunk. "Alex, pay attention."

"I'm right fuckin' here," Alex growls, and the ire in his voice is exactly what Ryan wants to hear. "Quit nagging me."

"Here," Luke hands over a protein bar and digs through Alex's bag for his water bottle, his own already emptied earlier. "What else can I do?"

"Nothing yet," Ryan murmurs. Turning his head in the direction their mates have gone, he strains for telltale sounds. "But once we get inside, find some liquor. Something high proof."

Luke nods. "Anything else?" He tries not to look at the cotton wrapped around Alex's thigh but it's soaked through and that can't be good. Fuck. 

"Soap, clean water. Boiling water," Ryan says, thinking it over. He's grateful that Luke is prodding him into figuring out the details now, so he'll have less to worry about when it's go-time. "First thing is to find someplace we can lay him flat. Then we'll find out what other meds Antony's got in that magic sack of his."

It's annoying to be talked over like he's not even present. But Alex finds his annoyance fading with each passing second, and he's coherent enough to know that's probably not a great thing. He swallows another hard lump of Powerbar, and washes it down with a big swig of water.

If it were anywhere else they'd be fucked for the boiling water without building a fire but Luke knows people are mostly on gas here. "I can do that," he says then reaches out to touch Alex's cheek. "Hey. Stay with us. You're going to get to have an actual bed tonight." 

Alex's lips twitch in a hint of a grin. "Are you gonna be in the bed, too?"

The back door opens and Keira sticks her head out. "Get in here. It's all clear." 

Working together to support him, Ryan and Luke manage to get Alex up the short flight of stone steps. "Water, boiling water. Soap, clean bathsheets if there are any," Ryan recites as they help Alex lie down flat on the carpet in the living room. "Alcohol." He grabs his short knife and starts cutting Alex's jeans away from the wound, trying to preserve the fabric as best he can, and looks up to meet Antony's eyes. "Did you find any antibiotics?"

"There's amoxicillin in there, cipro..." Antony shrugs, setting the bag of medications down beside Ryan. "Tell me what you need and I'll look for it." 

Luke's already in the kitchen, using matches to light the stove. The water's running but it's brown and there's no way Luke's using it. Thankfully there's a couple of cases of bottled water beside the fridge and he starts dumping bottle after bottle into a big pot, the burner turned up high. Sam comes in behind him and Luke shoves a clean tea towel at him along with a couple bottles of water. "Take those to Ryan. Tell him the boiled water's coming. Oh, and hold on," he rummages through the cupboards and finds a bottle of vodka. Three-quarters full. "Take that to him too. Don't drink it."

It's a fucking bizarre feeling for Alex, to simply lie back and let people fuss over him - to relinquish so much control. Bizarre, and yet it's starting to feel like a relief, too. Kind of peaceful.

"Hey," Ryan nudges him. "Are you allergic to penicillin? Are you allergic to anything?"

"Huh?" Alex squints at the ceiling. "Avocados..."

"Avocados?" Ryan echoes. "Fuck." He's been able to hang on to a few precious pairs of latex exam gloves he looted from a shop, months ago, but now he shoves them back into his pack with a grimace. "Anyone find soap?" He doesn't wait for an answer, though - just scrubs up as best he can with the last of the waterless sanitizer he's been carrying. He can practically hear the clock ticking. "Hold him," he orders Keira, and snatches the bottle of vodka out of Sam's hand. 

Suddenly his leg is on fire and Alex's world snaps back into focus, with far too much clarity. He shouts and kicks out at Ryan, and his knee connects with _something_ \- but it's his bad side and the impact jars through him like an electric shock. 

"Fucking dammit," Ryan spits out, because seriously? Now they're both hurting. "Drink," he orders, getting an arm under Alex's head and lifting the bottle to his lips. Alex chokes and sputters, vodka dribbling, but Ryan ignores him. "Again!"

Antony pins down Alex's legs. Sends Keira for soap, sanitizer, whatever else she can find in the house. "You need a gag for him?" he asks, reminding Ryan that while they're safe now, Alex is probably capable of screaming loud enough to bring a whole fucking pack of walkers down on their heads. He glances at Sam. "Give him your belt." It's thick, leather... "He can bite on it." If he doesn't fucking pass out first.

Sam doesn't argue. Pulls the belt from its loops and kneels down opposite to Ryan. 

Ryan lays out his supplies, such as they are, on a clean cloth, then looks around. "Where the fuck is that fucking-" But before he can finish, Luke is already carefully setting the boiling pot down next to him. "Thank you," he says, and drops a few metal instruments and a handful of dental floss into the water. He's got one decent sewing needle but no goddamn Vicryl. The whole world has unquestionably gone insane. 

Alex grinds his teeth into the sweat-stained leather. He feels it when Ryan first stabs into his flesh, and lifts his head to unleash a muffled blue string of curses into the air. But the second he catches a glimpse of his wound - Is that his blood? Can _all_ of that possibly be his blood? - the lights go out.

He's not even aware of it when his head thumps back onto the carpet.

"Good. That makes things simpler," Ryan mutters, sparing his mate's face only a glance. "Be ready with those scissors," he tells Luke, working cautiously with the surgical needle and a pair of gaudy lavender-patterned eyebrow tweezers. "Cut where I tell you. There, now," he says, and hooks the next stitch into the exposed length of muscle, but fresh blood wells up to obscure his view. "Someone clean this. Pour the sterile water on but don't burn him. Who's O-positive?"

"I am," Sam says, watching Luke clean the wound, Keira having come back to stand over them, her eyes wide. 

"Shit shit shit shit." It's fucked. No fucking dissolvable sutures... Ryan hesitates, frantically trying to think of a solution. But he keeps coming up empty. "He's gonna have a hell of a fucking scar. I hope you're okay with that," he says with a side glance at Luke, methodically stitching muscle together, then repeating the process with flaps of skin. "Because I'm going to have to open him up again in a week to rip out these inner stitches."

"I don't care. Just keep him alive," Luke says, watching Ryan expertly stitch Alex up.

And he's not the only one watching. Sam's watching too, exchanging a look with Antony.

It seems to take an eternity, but finally Ryan lays the needle down, and takes the scissors to snip away the last bit of excess floss. "Take his boots off," he murmurs, while he cleans and bandages the wound. Then he carefully checks Alex's pulse, not just in his neck but on both hands and both feet, making sure they're all equally steady and rhythmic. He's fucking exhausted when he sits back on his heels and looks up at Sam. "I might need that vein of yours later."

Sam nods. "Whatever you need." He blows out a breath. "Can we move him to a bed or does he need to stay here?"

"There's a bed just down the hall," Keira points out. "We wouldn't have to take him upstairs."

Standing, Ryan stretches his arms out over his head, with an audible pop in his stiff back. "It's always got to be the biggest one who goes down," he mutters with a weary chuckle. He shakes his head. "Nah, let him walk there once he's up. Just slip a pillow under him for now."

"I'll stay with him," Luke says, grabbing a pillow from the couch and slipping it under Alex's head. "The stove's working if anyone wants to heat something up and there's a ton of food in the pantry. I don't know why they didn't get raided. Don't use the water from the tap though." He shudders. "There's bottled water beside the fridge."

"I'm going to lie down for an hour," Antony says. "Wake me if you need anything," he tells Ryan and Sam, Keira already disappeared into the kitchen.

"God, that sounds good." Ryan shuts his eyes for a moment, trying to ward off bone-crushing fatigue. "Thanks for your help," he says, looking first at Luke and then at Sam. "I'm going to find someplace to wash up."

"Water's working down here but it's brown," Luke says, wiping Alex's brow. "I doubt it's working upstairs."

"I'll grab some towels," Sam says, heading for the downstairs bathroom. "But you get dibs," he tells Ryan, pulling his belt back through the loops on his jeans although he leaves it open, hanging. "Doc." The word only said once they're out of hearing range of everyone else. 

"Yeah?" The reply is automatic, and Ryan turns to see what Sam needs. But as soon as their eyes meet, he blanches -- realizing that he just exposed himself in a lie.

Sam grabs towels and face cloths from the linen closet and nudges Ryan into the bathroom, closing the door behind them. "Medic or full-fledged?" he asks. "And don't lie to me this time."

Ryan cracks a fresh water bottle and soaks his hands in the sink. "I was a trauma surgeon back home," he confesses reluctantly, and emphasizes, " _Was_." His brow furrows. "But I learned that doesn't mean much these days, so I don't like to get people's hopes up."

Sam nods. "Do your mates know?" 

Ryan snorts a laugh and lathers up. "What mates?" He studies Sam's reflection in the mirror. "Oh, you mean Alex and Luke, right." He shakes his head. "No. Everyone who knew is dead." Now he looks back over his shoulder to meet Sam's eyes. "And I couldn't fucking save them."

"I'm sorry," Sam says softly. "I won't tell anyone." Surely they've guessed but he won't be the one to break Ryan's confidence. 

That's unexpected. Ryan was expecting derision, accusations... "Thank you," he whispers, searching Sam's face like he'll find answers there to all his questions. He rinses off and holds out his hand for one of the cloths. "What about you?" he asks after a moment. "What was your identity in a former life?"

Sam smiles. "Nowhere near as glamorous," he says, handing over a towel. "I was a high school teacher."

"Seriously?" Again, it's the last thing Ryan was expecting. An answering smile curves his lips. "What subject?"

"Maths and science," Sam says, eyes sparkling. "Mostly maths." 

Ryan turns and leans back against the wall, making room at the vanity. "That's brilliant," he says, grinning at the thought. "It's no wonder you hold up so well under pressure. You must have patience by the metric fuckload."

"I don't know about that," Sam says, taking his turn getting washed. "I have a reputation for being pretty strict."

"Yeah?" Still grinning, Ryan shakes his head. "Nah. I think you were one of the cool teachers. I bet students fought to get your attention." Girls and boys both, he figures. He certainly wouldn't have been immune to those gorgeous eyes and that mischievous smile.

"Maybe," which is as much as Sam's going to say on the subject. He grins. Wipes his hands. Stares at Ryan for a moment and then decides what the hell, leaning in to kiss him on the mouth. More than prepared to be pushed away. 

But Ryan doesn't push, rather goes completely still - rigid with shock. So much so that when the contact breaks, he's still staring at Sam with wide eyes. "You...?"

"Misread any signals, obviously," Sam says, taking a good step back. "Sorry. I won't do that again," he promises, hoping Ryan won't make a big deal of it. Things are tough enough already.

"No, that's not- I didn't-" Ryan shakes his head in mute protest. Lays his hands on Sam's shoulders and steps in close, fitting their mouths together. A real kiss this time.

Sam's arms go around Ryan and he pulls him in tight, licking into his mouth, the kiss turning hard and hungry.

 _Oh. Shit._ It's Ryan's last coherent thought before his mind splinters apart into jangled spikes of color. The heat pumping off Sam's body is overwhelming, lighting him up, all that tight-wound tension barely restrained. Ryan clutches at Sam's shoulders, paws at his back. Trying to somehow gain hold when he's been knocked off his axis. He finds the edge of Sam's shirt and burrows his hand underneath, scraping his fingernails over hot skin.

Sam groans into Ryan's mouth, the touch setting him on fire. He licks deeper, bites harder, grinding against Ryan. "Fuck," he breathes, kissing Ryan again and again, one hand slipping between them to cup Ryan's cock through his jeans. 

It's a feral explosion. Ryan bucks into Sam's hand, instantly on the edge. He hooks his leg around Sam's hip, desperate and needy and feeling every bit of the horrific strain of the past months. He'll take relief where he can find it. "Gonna come," he gasps in warning, recalling that the jeans he's currently wearing are all the clean clothes he's got. "Too much."

Sam pulls back only long enough to get the jeans open, Ryan's cock out, and then he's got his hand wrapped around that hot hard flesh, every stroke a demand of its own. _Give it to me._

 _Fuck!_ Ryan's whole body jerks and he spills hot over Sam's fingers. He sinks his teeth into his own shoulder to muffle his shout, and slumps back against the wall, racked with deep shudders.

Sam braces his clean hand against the wall beside Ryan's head and unfastens his own jeans, freeing his own aching cock. "Give me your hand?" 

Trying to blink away the haze, Ryan looks at Sam. He straightens up and closes his hand around the man's erection, each movement slow and lazy. But then abruptly he reverses their positions: shoves Sam back against the wall and kisses him, sucking on that gorgeous bottom lip and jacking him off. Wanting it as hot and rough as his own climax was.

The assault takes Sam by surprise but fuck he needs this. Needs to be wanted this badly. And knowing Ryan already came? Already got his? And he's still going after Sam like this? It shoves him right over the edge, hot thick spurts coating Ryan's fingers as he struggles to keep quiet. _Fuck._

Ryan grins against Sam's throat, and for a few blissful moments his world narrows to only this: lingering ecstasy, satisfaction in knowing that he's pleased his partner, the hot raw scent of sex. The closest he's come to a real embrace in longer than he can remember.

"Mm." Sam grabs for a towel and cleans both their hands then wraps his arms around Ryan again. "Come sleep with me?" 

"...Yeah." Ryan's gratified as hell by the invitation, even though... "You're full of surprises, you know that? I think I might've misread you from that first moment."

"How so?" Sam asks with a small smile. "I mean, aside from the normal 'do they plan to kill me?' stuff we all worry about these days."

"Aside from that?" Ryan chuckles, buckling his belt. Openly watching Sam now that he's free to do so. "You seemed like... very serious business. I mean, not that Alex is a barrel of monkeys, exactly. Just..." He shrugs lightly, trying to sort out how best to phrase his uneasiness. "From that first impression, I wouldn't have thought that I'd ever feel comfortable around you. But right now? Yeah, I almost do."

"Almost?" Sam raises an eyebrow at that. "There's still some doubt?"

Bemused by the implications, Ryan is silent for a second. A bittersweet smile tugs at his lips. "Maybe tomorrow." Adding, "But I still want to sleep with you tonight. If the offer stands."

"It does," Sam nods, pushing off the wall and putting his clothes to rights. Still smiling at Ryan. "We can grab one of the upstairs bedrooms."

"All right. I'm just going to give Alex a quick check, then I'll come find you," Ryan says.

The shadows in the living room are growing long, western sunshine filtering through filmy curtains on this shortened winter day. They're going to have to rig some more substantial curtains - plywood, if they can find any - before nightfall. One more thing on a never-ending list of things to do. A grumble in Ryan's stomach reminds him that he hasn't eaten since breakfast, but he puts that thought aside for now too.

"Hey," he says softly, crouching down by Luke. "Has he stirred at all?"

Luke shakes his head. "He's just been sleeping," he says, glancing at Ryan before his attention's back on Alex. "That's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Ryan examines Alex with swift efficient movements. "His vitals are good, no signs of fever," he murmurs. Dipping into the bag Antony left behind, he searches through it and takes inventory. "Don't feel like you have to stay down here with him, okay?" he says, looking up at Luke. "You need to take time for yourself and rest, too. And he's not your responsibility."

"Yes, he is," Luke says, almost glaring at Ryan for a moment. "He _is_ my responsibility," he says again. "When he wakes up, I'll get him into bed down here but I'm staying with him." 

The sudden ferocity takes Ryan by surprise. "Actually we need to wake him up now, to get some meds in him. I was going to ask for your help. But..." He studies Luke's expression for a long moment, then blows a breath out through pursed lips, and lets go of the question. "I'll grab a fresh water bottle. Want to do the honours?"

Luke nods. He waits until Ryan steps away then leans down, stroking Alex's cheek. "Hey. We need you to wake up," he says softly. "You need to take some medicine. Get some water into you."

There's no response. Ryan hangs back in the doorway of the kitchen, watching.

"Alex," Luke pats his cheek this time and gives his shoulder a little shake with his other hand. "Wake up. C'mon. Just for a few minutes. You're lying on the cold hard floor and there's a real bed waiting down the hall."

"Errh?" Alex blinks his eyes open, but immediately shuts them again with a groan. "Oh, fuck. Fucking hell. What...?" He puts his hand on his thigh, fumbling blindly to fix whatever fucking hurts, then lifts his head to squint down the length of his torso and stare in bafflement at the bandage wrapping his leg. "What?"

"You were hurt in the tunnel," Luke explains, not sure how much Alex actually remembers. "We got out and found a house on the other side and Ryan stitched you up. You passed out and you've been sleeping for a while but you need to take some meds to fight infection and help with the pain."

Alex spares Luke a glance at this explanation, then struggles to sit up. He tugs at the wide strip of cloth, trying to find an end or something, then looks up in shock at a quick swat to his hand.

"Stop it," Ryan orders, standing over him. "Do _not_ touch." He crouches down and peeks under the bandage, checking that his work is still intact. "Luke's right. You need to swallow some pills now. And I'm going to be pissed off if you move around and fuck this up, got it?"

"Hurts," Alex mutters with a grimace.

"Eat this." Ryan puts a packet of dry biscuits into Luke's hand. "You can't take these pills on an empty stomach. But once you take your antibiotics, then I promise to give you something for the pain. Okay?"

Luke opens the packet and offers Alex a biscuit. "Eat," he orders. "Did everyone else go to bed?" he asks Ryan, Sam suddenly coming into the room with a quilt and some clothespins. 

"I think so. Need a hand with that?" Ryan asks Sam, but then ducks his head with an eyeroll for himself. Stupid question. "Just an hour or so until sunset, I think," he tells Luke, and hands him the water bottle.

"Did we do it?" Too late to fend off the medicine Ryan shoves in his mouth, Alex surrenders and lets Luke tip the bottle to his lips. But as soon as he swallows, he has to ask again. "We made it through?"

Luke nods and grins at Alex. "We made it through - and we found a safe place for the night. _And_ if you can make it down the hall, there's a real bed we can sleep in."

Ryan smiles faintly, and shakes a couple painkillers into Luke's palm.

It's hard to focus against the pain, but tentative hope stirs in Alex nonetheless. "Everyone's...?"

"Yeah," Ryan tells him softly. "Everyone's here." He gets to his feet and goes to help Sam.

"We all made it," Luke assures him, making sure he has another biscuit before he gets the painkillers. "Antony took out the walkers on the other side and we found this place."

It's the shock. It's got to be the shock which abruptly fills Alex's eyes with tears. He swipes his face with an unsteady hand. "Good," he whispers, and swallows more water. "That's good."

Luke leans in and wraps his arms around Alex's shoulders, hugging him gently. "It's brilliant." So fucking relieved. Alex is going to be okay.

Sam glances at the two of them, gives Ryan a small smile. "We should do the back window too," he says. "I got everything upstairs and in the bedroom down here."

"God, thank you for that," Ryan murmurs. Unwilling to admit that he was feeling like he couldn't handle one more fucking thing. "Everything's locked up?" He assumes that's something Sam and his mates covered when they first searched the house, but that nagging voice inside him still won't let him relax just yet.

"Oh yeah," Sam says. Damn right everything's locked up. "But if the place has stayed undisturbed for this long, short of us doing something stupid, I think we're good." He nods towards Alex. "How long before he can handle moving on, do you think?"

Ryan looks back over his shoulder at the couple on the floor, making certain they're out of earshot. Then he shakes his head at Sam. "It's still 50/50 odds he'll die in the next few days," he whispers, trying to remove himself from the words he's saying. Cold and clinical and speaking a truth he doesn't want to accept. "There's no moving him yet."

Sam stops what he's doing. "But he looks okay - and you sewed him up, and he got the meds," he whispers. "Do you need me to give him blood?"

"Not yet." Ryan looks back again. "Let's... let's talk about this later." He hooks a ladder-back chair and sets it next to Alex. "We need you to stand up now," he says, getting an arm around his mate. "Try and put your weight on your good leg."

Luke works with Ryan, offering his shoulder on the other side, but Alex is a big guy and as weak as he is right now, he's no help at all. 

"Here, let me," Sam says, stepping in behind Alex as they get him partway up. 

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Alex mutters a steady litany of curses like a running commentary. "Shit. Shit. No-"

"It's all right, mate," Ryan insists, "we've got you. You're fine, it's okay." He struggles under his weight, working to get a solid stance. Hoping no one fucking throws their back out trying to _help_ , shit. "Come on. Grab the chair. Up."

Alex is sure it's not going to work, he's going to take them all down with him, but somehow Ryan turns out to be right. "Fuck. Room's spinning. Which way?"

"To your left," Luke says, terrified Alex is going to fall and hurt himself even more. "Just down the hall. Bed's right inside the door." 

It's a near thing, but somehow they manage it. "Please please please tell me you don't need to piss right now," Ryan begs as they settle Alex onto the bedspread.

"What? Fuck." Alex blearily tries to focus on Ryan's face. "My leg is on fire, what are you bitching about?"

Ryan rolls his eyes. "Forget it, we'll find you a jar or something."

"I'll grab one," Sam volunteers, disappearing back into the kitchen. 

"When can he have more painkillers?" Luke asks, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Alex.

Ryan pulls Alex's eyelids back, checking his pupils and ignoring his complaints. "Alex, what's your pain level? Like, how much?"

Alex groans. "Fuck you, man."

Snorting a laugh, Ryan gives Luke a wry grin, trying to convey how normal this is... "Fine. Look at me. Do I have sparkly fairy wings?"

"No..."

"Yeah, he can have another one now," Ryan tells Luke, and ducks out to the living room to grab the medications.

Sam comes back in with an empty mason jar, a roll of toilet tissue, another packet of biscuits, water and a bottle of juice. "That's for you," he tells Luke. "I don't know what he's allowed to have but I'm assuming you haven't had anything since this morning so eat something and drink that." He steps out again and returns with another blanket, handing it to Luke along with the head lamp he'd left sitting on the kitchen counter. 

"Thanks," Luke says, a wave of exhaustion suddenly hitting him. He smiles at Alex though, reaching out to give his hand a quick squeeze.

Another painkiller down, Alex clings to Luke's hand. "How long can we sleep? Who's on lookout?"

"We're good, man," Ryan tells him softly, and gives Luke a nod of thanks. "Don't worry about it. Just sleep." He slips out of the room.

With Ryan gone, Luke slips his hand free and takes a moment to get a few biscuits into himself. The bottle of juice follows as well as the quickest trip to the bathroom he's ever taken and then he crawls onto the bed beside Alex, settling the blanket over them both and presses as close as he can without hurting Alex. 

Sam's finishing the last of the windows when Ryan comes out. "Are you hungry?" he asks. "Keira left some soup on the stove. It just needs to be reheated."

"Dear god, yes." Ryan lights the burner, then looks through the cabinets. "I can't believe this," he says softly. "Again, we're under a real roof, with real food..." He grins at Sam. "You three sure know how to live in luxury."

Sam chuckles. "We've been lucky so far," he says. "I can't believe somebody hasn't already destroyed these houses." He pulls two bowls from the cupboards, sets a packet of biscuits with them, two bottles of juice. "What did you mean Alex is still 50/50?" 

"Ah. Yeah." That question sure sobers Ryan up fast. He digs through a drawer and finds a ladle, then scoops out soup until the bowls are brimming. "He's at a huge risk for infection," he explains, handing Sam a spoon. "Thank heaven we've got clean water here, even if we can't find a fresh source. I'll start him on a second class of antibiotics today just to cover our bases, and I'll keep his leg as clean as I can. But it's largely out of our control," he says, sitting down and taking his first bite. It burns his mouth and it's too salty. "Holy fuck, this is the best soup I've ever tasted."

"Just like last night was the best steak?" Sam grins, the expression only there for a moment before it fades again. "Is there anything else we can do? Supplies, meds? What do you need to give him his best chance of surviving?"

"This is it," Ryan answers, spreading his hands. "Keep it clean, meds, rest, and nutrition." He pushes the last of his soup around the bottom of his bowl with his spoon, then dares to broach a topic that occurred to him earlier, in all the panic. "I know this wasn't in your plans," he murmurs. "Stopping for a few days, or even just slowing down some. I think we made a pretty amazing team today. But I understand if you and Keira and Antony feel like you've got to keep moving."

"I'll have to talk to Antony but I don't think he minds stopping. He was impressed with how you all handled yourselves in the tunnel and he's wanted us to up our numbers for a while, we just didn't see anyone we wanted to hook up with," Sam explains, breaking a biscuit in half. "You know how many fucking crazies there are out there."

Ryan blows out a breath, his brow furrowing. "Yeah. True enough." He eyes Sam. Still trying to read him. "You met up with many of those?"

"A few," Sam nods, taking a drink of his juice. "We've run into a couple gangs that wanted us to hand over Keira and a few people on their own who were just..." he shakes his head. "Useless to us anyway. Too far gone, too scared. And there was one town where they'd run out of food and were choosing their own people, like a lottery, when they couldn't find anyone new." He shudders, remembering. "It seems like only the strongest should survive when this kind of thing happens, but it's not. There are all kinds of reasons some people survive while others don't." Like Cal.

Sitting back in his chair, Ryan stares at Sam. "Those townspeople were choosing their own... to eat?" he asks, hoping he misunderstood.

Sam nods again. "They almost got us. They were sending out scouts to bring people back and the ones we met - they seemed fine, sane, they seemed like good people. But Antony knew there was something off and he took them out just before we got to the town. Keira freaked. Called him a killer and then when we were skirting the town, we saw the pile of bones out back and the... meat hanging to dry. They were salting and curing it. Getting ready for the winter, I guess."

"Jesus." Ryan definitely isn't going for a second helping of dinner. He swallows back against the sudden queasiness in his stomach. "Alex and I fell in with a group in Shoreditch. It was like you said, they seemed all right. At first. But then, when they decided someone wasn't strong enough to run with them, they'd use them as biter bait. You know, tie them up, let 'em scream. And just plant them in the path of whatever was coming and saunter away. But, fuckin' Maxwell, their leader - he had his people taking scalps. Fucking scalping live human beings, and setting them up to be eaten. Old men... kids... Maxwell kept their scalps, like goddamn trophies. After a fight when we saw one of his guys do it, that's when he told us all their stories. He said it was the price of protection."

Sam shakes his head in disbelief, sickened. "How did you get away?"

"We snuck out of the camp when most of them were sleeping." Ryan drops his gaze to the table. "We had to kill three guards to get away. Alex... The whole next day he kept coming up with plans for what we _should_ have done, how maybe we could've escaped without having to murder anyone, if we'd only just..." He gnaws on his bottom lip. "Except sometimes I think we might have done better to kill more of them, before they happened upon anyone else."

"Yeah. I felt the same way about that town," Sam admits, pushing his bowl away finally. "How committed are you three to your plans? Does Alex really think his family's still alive or is this just something to keep you guys going?"

Ryan hunches over his folded arms. "I think he knows they're gone," he whispers. "I feel like shit saying that, but..." He studies Sam's face. "We just need an excuse to keep moving. Because if we stop, what then? What's the fucking point?"

"You should come with us," Sam says. "All of you. Auskerry was already completely off the grid, it's set up for this world, there's nowhere else like it, or if there is, you'll be starting from scratch. There's plants, animals, buildings, water, solar power. The walkers won't be able to get to us out there."

It sounds like an idyllic dream world. Ryan tries to blink away the sudden moisture in his eyes. "That sounds like paradise." He nods once, considering; but really, there's nothing to consider. "We'll come with you. We don't even have to tell Alex, because we'd be going that direction anyway. And then, once we're there... Well, I guess he'd have a choice to make."

"And Luke might have a lot to do with that," Sam points out. "So, do we tell him?"

"Tell Luke?" Ryan chuckles softly in disbelief. "You're really good at this. Optimistic long-range planning, I mean." He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. I just feel like we should focus on getting there first, and worry about the details later. But you're right, I shouldn't put them in that box just because it's the way I think."

Sam smiles. "I think a lot of people react better to knowing they have a reason to live, to make the effort to survive. Those two seem to have already found it in each other, but now we can give them a place to be together. Where it won't always be a struggle."

"Right." God, what an enticing thought. "Oh, also. Since I'm coming clean about," Ryan waves a vague hand that suggests _everything_. "Alex and I have been traveling together since near the start, that was true. But I'll tell you that we just met Luke, like, four days ago. I mean, I wouldn't..." He sighs. "Regardless. He seems solid. And I'm not sure I could pry Alex away from him with a crowbar, even if I wanted to."

"Four days?" Sam laughs. Now that does surprise him. "I guess it must have been love at first sight."

Ryan shrugs, but he has to smile too. "I guess. End of the world, right? People just throw their inhibitions to the wind." Speaking of which... he finds himself staring at Sam's lips. Wondering about his own inhibitions.

Sam smiles. "Everyone else is asleep," he says softly, staring back, "and there's a bed upstairs with our names on it."

Ryan blushes, a tinge embarrassed at being so easily read. So easily played. "Have you...?" He clears his throat, suddenly self-conscious to the core. "You've done this before? With other blokes, I mean."

"I'm bisexual," Sam nods. "You?"

"Same," Ryan whispers, a touch surprised by the way they're just discussing this out in the open. As if the apocalypse has finally forced the world into understanding that it really isn't such a shameful taboo topic. "But it's been a very long time - god, nearly twenty years? - since I experimented much. Just for practical reasons, you understand. But you..." He quirks a grin and confesses, "You're kind of viciously sexy."

"And not entirely trustworthy," Sam teases, but he grins, reaching across the table to brush his fingers over the back of Ryan's hand. "You're pretty damn hot yourself."

Ryan laughs, his skin tingling from where Sam touched him. "I didn't mean you, personally," he protests. "I'm sorry if it seemed that way." Now he's the one to reach out, tracing Sam's long fingers with his own.

"It's okay. I'm just kidding," Sam says with a smile, linking their fingers together. "Bed?" Because while it's damn tempting to do whatever they want wherever they want and he's sure as hell not hiding it, there's an actual bed upstairs and he wants to see _all_ of Ryan.

"Yeah." Ryan nods and gets to his feet. "I'll just be a sec," he says, clearing the table and then pulling up short at the kitchen sink. Like he's actually going to wash the dishes right now? He laughs softly at himself and unloads his arms, then hooks a fresh bottle of water. Turns to follow Sam up the stairs.

Sam's doublechecked the doors and peeked out the upstairs window, glad to find things fairly quiet except for a few walkers wandering aimlessly out on the street. He lights a thick sturdy candle, a plate snagged from the kitchen to catch the wax. "Romantic, yeah?" he grins at Ryan when the other man joins him.

"Catch me if I swoon." Ryan looks around the room, and pulls his hoodie off, laying it over the top of a trunk at the foot of the bed. He's nervous as hell. There are no butterflies in his stomach; nope, that feels like a huge nest of angry wasps.

Sam starts pulling off layers as well, standing there, his jeans open when he asks, "You said it's been a while. What are you okay with?"

"Hands. Mouth." Ryan kicks off his boots, his gaze moving over the sculpted planes of Sam's body. "I'm no good at bottoming." Jeans off, and he stands nude in the candlelight.

Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed. He'd been really hoping fucking Ryan would be on the table. But mouth and hands still sounds pretty damn good and given that it's Ryan's hands and mouth, even better. "Works for me," he says, dropping his jeans to the floor. "It's been too long for anything else, especially without proper supplies."

Ryan nods, and exhales a covert breath of relief. He steps forward and splays his fingers against Sam's chest, warm flesh and a soft dark dusting of hair beneath his palm. Leaning in, he presses their lips together, his cock already half-hard in pure anticipation.

Sam wraps his arms around Ryan, kissing him back, his body responding eagerly to the feel of skin on skin. Christ, it's been so long. "You feel so good," he whispers, licking at Ryan's mouth.

Sliding his hands down Sam's back to his ass, Ryan grins. "You have no idea," he teases. He rubs against him, savoring every sweet spark. Steps away to lie back on the bed, his gaze hungry in the candlelight.

Sam takes a moment to simply drink in the sight but then he's stretching out alongside Ryan, body half-covering the other man's, his leg between Ryan's thighs as he kisses him again. And again. Free hand roaming over every inch of bare skin he can reach.

The moment is unexpectedly sensual, a potent combination of unhurried candlelight and an actual bed and _damn_. Ryan offers himself up to Sam's touch, lust humming through his blood. His need sharpens, but this time it's without the frantically desperate edge of earlier. He closes his hands over Sam's hips and rocks up against him with a gasp.

"Oh, god," Sam whispers under his breath, pressing their foreheads together as they grind against each other. "You want my mouth?" Normally he wouldn't even ask but it feels so good just being _this close_ to Ryan, he's hesitant to break the connection.

Tough call. Ryan wants _everything_ , all at once and then one by one. "Can we...?" He shifts beneath Sam, opening his thighs. Lining their cocks up and wrapping his hand around their combined girth, he finds an angle that seems satisfying and works them together. Licking into Sam's mouth with a soft groan.

Sam chuckles. "I'm not going to last much longer than I did in the bathroom," he jokes, matching that groan. He bites at Ryan's mouth, lightly, sucking on his bottom lip.

And hell, Ryan knows damn well he's got a hair-trigger now too. If Sam's right there with him, he couldn't care less. Precome beads up on the head of his cock and he slicks them both with it, picking up speed. Demanding.

"Ryan..." Sam shudders hard, struggling to hold back as long as he can. But it's obvious Ryan doesn't want or expect him to and he goes over, a would-be shout gritted between his teeth. 

Ryan arches, pinned by Sam's weight. He bucks against him and in mere seconds he unravels, pleasure whipping through him.

Cursing softly under his breath when Ryan finishes, Sam grabs a few tissues from the nightstand and hands them over, shifting to lie beside him. "That was incredible." 

Ryan sits up, taking care with the bedspread. He gathers up the tissues and drops them into a small dustbin, then blows out the candle. Slipping beneath the covers and tentatively hugging Sam feels pretty close to heaven, and he relaxes in his heat.

Sam tugs Ryan in even closer and brushes a kiss across his temple. "I think I might have missed this even more than the sex," he murmurs, smiling as he adds, "Maybe."

"I know what you mean," Ryan whispers, smiling bashfully in the darkness. Simple touch, the most basic physical contact, but without violence or desperation or fear behind it - he's surprised to realize how much he's been needing this. He turns on his side and slips his arm over Sam's waist, settling in for the night.


End file.
